


shot through the heart (and you're to blame)

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Sex, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He picks up his phone from his nightstand, scrolls through his contacts for Brent's name and then looks at the time. 11pm on the Friday of a holiday weekend; kind of presumptuous to think the guy might be free, but Johnny feels like he's got nothing to lose.</p><p><i>U wanna hook up tonight?</i> is what he sends. Then he feels brief mortification that maybe Brent got rid of his contact info and pathetically adds, <i>this is Johnny from the pearl jam party</i></p><p>(Or, five times Brent and Johnny hook-up and one time they go on a date.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	shot through the heart (and you're to blame)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alotofthingsdifferent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/gifts).



> for amanda's tazer/seabs b-day bash fest. Massive thanks to her for cheerleading. Huge props to ferritin for beta. Mix is [here](http://8tracks.com/sometimesalways/shot-through-the-heart-and-you-re-to-blame). 
> 
> Graphic here: 
> 
>  

1\. _thoughts arrive like butterflies_

Kaner's got this older, adjunct professor friend who's throwing a party and invites him to go. So Kaner of course says, "C'mon Johnny, it'll be fun.” What Johnny wants to say in return is, ‘No it won't, it'll be filled with old, stuffy academic types swirling around their wine and eating their cheese with their noses up like their shit don't stink.’ Johnny knows what adjunct professors make and that's nothing to stick your nose up at. That's something to weep into your pillow at night at while you think about your pile of student loan debt. It's the main reason he decided not to go down that route. 

But Johnny was never good at saying no to Patrick Kane while simultaneously getting a handjob. What he actually says is, "God, yes, whatever you want, Kaner, just don't fucking stop."

So that's how he ends up standing in the corner of a shithole of an apartment near Illinois Tech, while Pearl Jam blasts over the speakers. Johnny likes rock as much as the next person, but it's been a solid block of Eddie Vedder so far. Where the fuck is the variety? This dude’s a professor, he should know how to like, balance shit. Johnny despairs for what his syllabi are like. 

He's lost Kaner to the chips and dip and a hot graduate student, so on top of it Johnny's not even gonna get laid by his closest friend in Chicago and favorite hook-up, afterwards.

"Fuckin’ horseshit," he mutters into his beer can.

"I know right? I told Sharpy to at least mix it up with some Temple of the Dog. Give an _appearance_ of variety." 

Johnny nearly chokes on his mouthful of beer. He hadn’t even noticed anyone was standing near him, too lost in his own thoughts which were… eerily similar to this guy’s own.

He turns his head to the right. His first thought is: this night is looking up. His second is that he'd love to climb this guy like a tree.

He plays it cool, sounding as disinterested as possible when saying, "I'm guessing Sharpy is the guy who said ‘mi casa es su casa’ when I came in and then started head banging to Even Flow?"

"One and the same," the guy replies. Johnny's having a real hard time not staring at the broadness of his shoulders or the way his white t-shirt hugs his chest in all the right places. He kind of wishes he'd worn one of his see-through shirts tonight that Kaner can't get enough of. Instead he just threw on his Jimi Hendrix tee.

"I'm Brent," the guy says. Jesus, he even has a porn star name.

"Jonathan. Johnny."

Brent gives him half a smile and leans back against the wall, looking out at the party. "Having a good time?"

Johnny copies his stance and snorts. "Un, not really."

Brent laughs. "Hey," he whispers. 

Johnny looks at him, head cocked, trying to keep his eyes from drifting to his mouth. "Yeah?" He's got a gleam in his eye that makes Johnny wish his next words will be, ‘Can I blow you in the bathroom?’

But Johnny's never been that lucky.

"Wanna commandeer his iPod?"

Johnny grins. "You're on."

Pretty soon they're huddled near the speakers and creating a new playlist that consists of REM, Fleetwood Mac, Rush, and The Doors.

"The REM was to lull him into a false sense of security," Johnny says proudly.

"Into the classic rock, huh?"

Johnny shrugs. "Into a lot."

He doesn't miss the way Brent licks his lips. "Yeah?"

And alright, maybe Johnny is that lucky, because all the air suddenly feels sucked out of the room. 

Johnny's pulse kicks up and he swallows thickly. "This is ready to go," he says, nodding to the iPod, so as not to say, ‘Please let me pull your dick out.’

"Yeah?" Brent says,eyebrow arched. "Then we should go, too." He presses play and grabs Johnny's hand, ushering him out of the main room and down a hallway as 'Radio Song’ starts up.

They're giggling by the time they make it into an empty room that looks like it's used for an office. Brent's hand is still in his. Johnny looks up at him, loves that he _has_ to look up at him. He swallows at what he sees.

Brent's other hand comes up and brushes his cheek. Johnny's heart kickstarts at the same time his dick leaps. "How old are you?" Brent asks, voice a little gravelly. 

Johnny manages to roll his eyes through his own lust. "I'm 20, man, how old are _you_?"

Brent laughs. "23. And relax, kid. You look younger."

Johnny scoffs. "Whatever."

He tries to pull his hand from Brent's grip, but he holds on, backs Johnny up to the wall beside the door. 

"Not in a bad way," he says, voice nearly a whisper. 

Johnny looks at him, licking his own lips. Brent's showing everything on his face right now and Johnny’s loving what he's seeing.

"You wanna?" Brent asks roughly, hand slipping from Johnny's to Johnny's hip, pressing in with intent.

Fuck yes, he wants to.  
______________________

Johnny didn’t really know what he was anticipating. But this guy gets all up in his space even more, bracketing his body so Johnny's flat against the wall. Johnny works out, keeps in shape, is happy with his six pack and ability to bench press more than his weight, but Brent—Brent from shoulder to shoulder is wider than Johnny's entire frame. He's got an inch on Johnny and at least 20 pounds and it's all muscle. But, lean muscle; Johnny's not into body-builder type dudes.

Brent’s just the type of guy Johnny likes and rarely gets. He's the kind of guy that Johnny wants to bang him into next week. He can't help a shiver when Brent slides his hands from the wall behind Johnny, to over his shoulders and down his arms, 

Brent's breath is hot on Johnny's neck as he presses wet, open-lipped kisses down it. Johnny's body feels electrified, like he’s about to fly apart at the seams just from this, just from this guy’s mouth on his neck and his everything all up in Johnny's space. His dick is straining against the zipper of his jeans. 

"Do you kiss?" Brent whispers, mouthing a path up his jaw and coming to a stop at his ear, tugging gently on the lobe.

Johnny frowns. Who's this guy think he is, Julia Roberts?

"Uh, yeah? What kind of question is that?" 

Johnny's fully aware his filter is only really present for parents and authority figures. Sometimes he gets called an asshole because of it. Well, mostly by Kaner. 

He feels Brent shrug against him. “I dunno, man, some guys I hook up with don't like it.”

Johnny purses his lips, blowing out a raspberry. "Well, you're hooking up with idiots."

That earns him a chuckle that rumbles through Brent. He pulls back, thumbing Johnny's bottom lip, making his breath catch. 

"Oh yeah?" Murmurs Brent. "Gonna show me how it's done, sweetheart?"

Johnny rolls his eyes and hauls him in with a hand to the back of his neck.

Brent's lips are soft beneath his own. He sighs into the feel of his beard against his cheek as their mouths move together, slowly at first, just learning the shape and feel of one another’s mouths. It doesn't stay slow for long, building in intensity with every insistent rock of their hips. 

Johnny gasps when Brent sucks on his tongue as their dicks catch and drag through the denim. Brent pins him against the wall, rides his cock along the crease of Johnny's thigh and fucks his tongue into Johnny's mouth until Johnny's got to gasp and tilt his head away just to breathe.

“Jesus,” Johnny pants out, scratching his nails along the back of Brent’s neck, enjoying the soft, choked-off sound he makes against the corner of Johnny’s lips. “I thought I was gonna show _you_ how it’s done.” 

Brent nibbles at his lower lip, thrusting his hips forward again. “Eh, I think I got this.” 

Johnny’s laughter feels like it’s punched out of him. He rolls his hips upward, hard, against Brent’s and gets kissed again within an inch of his life for his efforts. He doesn’t know how long they stand like that, winding each other up, the music from their playlist muffled on the other side of the wall, until it’s finally recognized and changed back. Johnny can’t care, is too preoccupied by the way Brent’s hand has finally moved to the waistband of his jeans. He pops the button, easing down the zipper and parting the fabric. Johnny moans into Brent’s mouth, pressing into his hand. 

Brent’s mouth moves to his neck, hot puffs of air against him. He rubs his palm against Johnny’s cock through his boxer briefs. 

“How do you like it?' His breath is hot on Johnny's neck, his palm rubbing up and down the length of him through his boxer briefs.

Johnny’s head tips back farther on a groan. “I like a hand on my dick,” he says, with an edge of impatience. They’re gonna have to get back out there sooner or later. 

Brent bites down hard at the juncture of his neck and Johnny jerks at the movement. “Kid,” he says, working his palm harder against him. “When someone asks you how you like it, it’s in your best interest to answer, eh?” 

He pins Johnny against the wall again, hands hard on his shoulders, fucking his tongue deep into Johnny’s mouth until they’re both breathless and panting against one another’s cheeks. Johnny’s dick is aching when Brent puts his palm on it again. He barely feels like he’s breathing when he says, “Fuck. Fast and uh, tight. Drag your nail against the head.” 

Brent laughs softly against him. "You got hidden depths, kid?”

Johnny snorts. “Hardly.” Then he stops talking because Brent's finally working his dick out, jerking Johnny exactly how he loves it. He can’t remember the last time he had it this good. 

Brent gets his cock out when Johnny’s so close to coming he can taste it. His gasp is swallowed by Brent’s mouth as he works their dicks together in his hand. 

“You close?” Brent pants against him, scratching his beard along Johnny’s jaw. His breath smells like the beer they were drinking, but his mouth tastes even better. Johnny doesn’t want to stop kissing him, to be honest. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “C’mere.” Johnny drags his fingernails along the back of Brent’s neck, earning a hiss before their mouths catch again. Brent’s left hand lifts to grip Johnny’s upper arm, holding him against the wall as he jerks them both harder. Johnny comes when Brent thumbs over the head of his dick again, just the mere hint of his nail, muffled moans swallowed by Brent’s lips. 

Brent follows him a moment later, gasping into Johnny’s mouth, these panting breaths that make his dick interested even though he’s out of comission for at least a half hour. 

They stand there, rough, uneven breathing filling the air. Johnny's legs aren't feeling as strong as they were a minute ago, and it doesn't help with Brent practically slumped against him. He hears him expel a long, satisfied sigh before nuzzling his beard against the fabric of Johnny's shirt and straightening up. It's the cleanup that's always the most awkward part, especially in public. Granted, Johnny's only public hookups before this had been with Kaner in bar bathrooms, because that's how Kaner rolls, but still. 

But Brent easily locates a box of tissues on the desk and cleans off his hand while Johnny tucks his dick back into his pants.

"Here," Brent says, handing him a wad of tissues. 

"Thanks," replies Johnny, wiping at the front of his shirt. At least it's white so it’ll blend in. Ugh. 

"That was fun," Brent says, when they're as presentable as possible. 

"It was," Johnny replies. Then bites his lip. He probably shouldn't do this, but this guy is ridiculously hot. "So, uh, I'm not looking for anything serious, but I'd, you know, be down for this again."

Brent grins at him slyly. "Oh yeah? You'd be _down_ for it again?”

Johnny thunks his head on the wall as he laughs. Oh yeah, he’s definitely getting this dude’s number.

Brent leaves the room first, and when Johnny follows thereafter he loses track of him quickly. He shrugs and heads over to Kaner.

“I thought you split," Kaner says. 

“We drove together,” Johnny points out. 

Kaner shrugs. “So, I struck out.”

Johnny snorts. “Did she find out you're just a wannabe math teacher?”

“Fuck you, Kaner says, finally looking at Johnny. And then he does a double take. Johnny winces at what's coming.

"No way."

"What?" Johnny asks innocently.

"Don't what me, Tazer, I know the way you look when you're come dumb. Who the hell did you find to bang? These girls will barely give me the time of day."

"I don't know what you're talking about, man," he says, stealing Kaner's beer out of his hand and finishing off the rest of it.

"Asshole, like hell you—" 

Kaner trails off as Brent passes them on his way to the door, coat in hand as he winks, fucking _winks_ , at Johnny.

Johnny's face immediately heats and his still-wet dick twitches painfully in his shorts.

"Holy shit," Kaner breathes out in awe.  
______________________________

Kaner won't stop pumping him for details on the walk home, so Johnny embraces it, since bragging to Kaner is one of his favorite things to begin with. 

“I guess age does equal experience,” he concludes, after telling him how it was the best handjob of his life.

Kaner scoffs. “You said he's only three years older than you.” 

“Well," Johnny says thoughtfully, "Better than you, at any rate.” 

Kaner elbows him in the ribs. "'Motherfucker. See if I ever suck your dick again.” 

Kaner’s the worst at holding a grudge, and sucks him off that very night before heading to his own dorm. Johnny feels like he’s winning all over the place.

____________________________________________

2\. _believe in the resolute urgency of now_

Johnny doesn't call or text Brent. He passes over his name a few times during the next week and has to take a moment to remember who the hell that even is, before it all comes back to him and he gets an instant half chub. 

But he's busy with classes and then it's Thanksgiving break and everyone's gone except Johnny, because Thanksgiving is in October, naturally. 

It's Friday night and he's bored as fuck. Kaner's been texting him obnoxious pictures of leftover turkey and mashed potatoes. And Dan's working at Moxies tonight, so they can't even hang over Skype. 

Johnny watches a few episodes of Family Guy on Netflix, but even that holds no interest. He could jerk off, he supposes. Or he could...

He picks up his phone from his nightstand, scrolls through his contacts for Brent's name and then looks at the time. 11pm on the Friday of a holiday weekend; kind of presumptuous to think the guy might be free, but Johnny feels like he's got nothing to lose. 

_U wanna hook up tonight?_ is what he sends. Then he feels brief mortification that maybe Brent got rid of his contact info and pathetically adds, _this is Johnny from the pearl jam party_

The response comes a few minutes later. _lol. um, yeah, sure. my roommate has his girl over tonight. how about your place?_

Johnny refuses to feel embarrassed that he lives in the dorm. He’s a college student, dammit. He texts back his location at IIT and doesn’t even attempt an apology because fuck it, he’s not gonna overthink a booty call. Which doesn’t explain why he cleans up the empty water bottles on the floor, or why he shoves his clothes in his closet. Whatever. He’d rather Brent not trip and kill himself, or worse, injure his dick. 

Johnny makes a last-minute decision to strip off his shirt and pants and just keep his black briefs on. He looks in the mirror, fixes his hair and nods to his reflection. He knows he has a good body; might as well show it off right away. 

His pulse in his neck jumps when he hears knocking. 

Johnny pads barefoot to the door and really hopes it’s Brent. 

It is. He’s wearing a leather jacket, another white t-shirt, and jeans. He looks even better than Johnny remembered. 

Johnny wants him everywhere. 

Brent’s mouth drops open as soon as he sees Johnny, but it closes quickly enough. “Wow,” he says, pointedly looking up and down Johnny’s body. 

Johnny raises an eyebrow, daring him to protest. Brent doesn’t, though. In fact, what he does is back Johnny up through the doorway, kicking it closed behind him and hauling Johnny in with two strong hands on his shoulders. 

“Hi,” Brent says, looming over Johnny before ducking to take his mouth in a kiss that’s open and sloppy from the get-go.

Johnny doesn’t respond, just curls his tongue around Brent’s while locking his arms around Brent’s back, feeling the muscles bunch beneath his jacket. 

Brent tastes like peppermint, like he had a mint or brushed his teeth before coming over. Johnny doesn’t know why that thought is kind of endearing. He kisses him harder, deeper, chasing the taste to find Brent’s own beneath it. He tastes as good as Johnny remembers, and Johnny feels his dick filling up rapidly, just from a little making out. 

Brent groans against his lips, his hands sliding down Johnny’s back and then up again. “Fuck,” he pants, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Brent backs them up in the direction of the bed, his hands smoothing down to Johnny’s ass, squeezing roughly. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.” He drags his mouth down the column of Johnny’s throat, kissing the hollow there. Johnny’s skin pebbles and he lets out a soft, high moan. “But you know that, right?” 

Johnny swallows, feels Brent’s lips pressed against his Adam’s apple. “I've been told a few times,” Johnny deadpans. 

“Good,” Brent replies, voice more sincere than Johnny would’ve expected. Johnny’s knees hit the bed and then Brent’s between them, shrugging out of his own jacket and tossing it on the floor. 

Johnny bites back a moan at the sight of him, the pink of his mouth, kiss swollen, working it’s way down Johnny’s chest, palming over his abs. 

“Jesus,” Brent says. “Can’t believe I didn’t get you naked last time.” 

Johnny chokes out a laugh. “You could get me naked now,” he says pointedly, shifting his hips upward. 

Brent’s teeth sting over his hip bone. “Patience, young grasshopper.” 

Johnny groans and leans back on his hands, eyes focused on Brent as he slides his mouth lower, tonguing the skin at the waistband of his briefs before moving down to mouth at the fabric. Johnny’s eyes flutter shut, muscles in his stomach bunching when Brent licks the outline of his dick. Johnny lets out a low whine when Brent’s lips close around the head, sucking gently. 

“Oh fuck, yeah,” he breathes, neck arching, gazing hazily up at the ceiling. Johnny’s dick is straining against every swipe of Brent’s tongue, his mouth so hot. Johnny’s own mouth waters at the thought of feeling it around him. The guy’s probably a great cocksucker. Has to be. His hands are everywhere: grazing up and down Johnny’s thighs, sweeping over his inner groin, curving around his hips to squeeze whatever he can of Johnny’s ass. 

“Any reason I need to use a condom?” Brent asks, voice low and deep. 

“Uhhh…” Johnny says. How can he handle questions right now? His dick is throbbing, his balls aching. 

“STDs, Johnny. You got any?” 

“Oh. No. Nope.” 

Brent laughs. “Okay. If you’ve got crabs, I’m not gonna be happy.” 

He starts tonguing Johnny’s left nut through his underwear which completely soaked now. Johnny thinks he might just start _begging_ Brent to suck him off. 

Which is of course when he finally tugs down Johnny’s briefs down, tucking the waistband beneath his balls and getting his mouth on Johnny’s cock immediately as it springs free. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh my _god_ ,” Johnny gasps, eyes falling shut. His fingers curve on his comforter at the hot curl of Brent’s tongue as it swipes around the head, before he sucks Johnny half the way down. 

“Jesus, _Jesus_ , suck me. God.” 

Brent pulls off, laughing. Johnny shivers at the warm huff of breath it makes against his dick. “Damn, you’re loud.” 

“Got a problem with it?” Johnny asks, a tad too breathless for it to be bitchy. 

Brent laughs again, bestowing little kitten licks around the tip. “Just the opposite, kid.” 

Johnny grunts and looks down at him as he takes him in again, takes him _all_ the way down. Johnny’s mouth falls open. 

He maybe lets himself talk more than he normally does after that, enjoying the way Brent moans around his dick when he does. He’s sucking Johnny hard and fast, his mouth making obscene noises as he does it, and Johnny’s losing it, fucking losing it, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, eyes barely able to see, heavy with lust, when Brent pulls off, panting against his inner thigh. 

“Mouth or hand?” Brent asks. 

“Jesus christ,” Johnny breathes out, answering with an upward push with his hips. It does the trick, gets Brent’s mouth back on him, wet and tight. He comes on a long, strangled moan. 

He’s still breathing a little hard when Brent stands between his legs, unbuttoning his fly of his jeans. 

“I guess I’m up then,” Johnny drawls. 

Brent’s mouth is so red, swollen. His voice has that classic dick-sucking rasp when he says, “Damn right, sweetheart,” as he drags one finger down Johnny’s cheek and over his mouth, pulling his lower lip down.  
_____________________________________

Brent’s big. Bigger than Johnny remembered. Johnny can really only go halfway down and he feels fucking embarrassed about it, cheeks burning, but Brent’s still moaning pretty loudly above him. His thumbs are sweeping up and down the back of Johnny’s neck, just below his ears. Johnny’s zeroed in on that touch, and the way Brent’s breathing hitches every time Johnny’s fist meets his mouth and he licks around his fingers. 

“So good, kid. God, yeah.”

Johnny would smirk if he thought he wouldn’t lose his grip on his teeth. Brent’s fingers tighten around Johnny’s neck, the pressure almost painful. Johnny’s into it, into all of this. He could maybe get hard again, honestly. 

“Really close, man,” Brent warns. Johnny figures it’s only polite to swallow since Brent did. It’s not his most favorite thing in the world, but it’s easier than cleaning it up. 

He urges Brent on with a hand on his hip, listens to the grunts he makes, revels in the drag of nails over the nape of his neck and up the back of his spine. 

“Fuck, yes,” Brent shouts, hips pumping once, then twice, coming hard on Johnny’s tongue. 

Johnny swallows it down, before pulling off and catching the rest with his tongue. 

Brent’s looking down at him when Johnny looks up, face completely blissed out. “Gotta sit down man, can I?” 

Johnny chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he waves with his other hand. “Be my guest.” 

He scoots backward so he’s sitting against the wall, shivering a little when Brent’s bare forearm brushes against his, their shoulders touching. Out of his periphery he sees Brent drop his head back against the wall, neck exposed, flushed.

“It’s times like this I wish I hadn’t quit smoking,” Brent says, voice still roughened. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Johnny says dryly. 

Brent snorts, pushing at his shoulder a little. “Please, kid, like you need compliments.” 

Well. True. But they are pretty nice. 

“In case you really need to know,” Brent drawls, “that was fucking hot.” 

Johnny bites back a smile, neck feeling hot from the praise. Yeah. He definitely likes compliments. 

He sneaks a glance at Brent, jostled a little as Brent raises his hands over his head in a stretch. “Got yourself a single, huh?” Brent says, nodding to the rest of the room. 

“Yeah,” Johnny says. “I uh, like my privacy and shit.” 

Brent hums, and then laughs. “Man. Been forever since I’ve been in a dorm.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes, knocking his knee against Brent’s. “Forever, old man? When’d you graduate, like, 2 years ago?” 

Brent knocks his knee right back. “Yeah, actually. And went right back for grad school.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What major?” 

“Started in Phys Ed. Got my license and everything, but decided I wanted to have more of an option so I’m doing early childhood education.” 

Johnny never would’ve pictured this guy as a wannabe teacher. Wannabe teacher of _kids_ , at that. It makes him smile.

“How bout you?” Brent asks, shifting a little so he’s propped up on his elbow, their bodies turned into one another. 

“Environmental Engineering.” 

“Hmm. I hope those you plan on recycling those empty water bottles I saw under your bed.” 

Johnny laughs, then flushes, remembering just why Brent was able to see under his bed, a frisson of pleasure spiking through him. 

They talk a bit. He finds out Brent lives with his buddy Duncs and did Undergrad at Chicago State before going to the Erikson Institute. That he met that guy Sharpy from the party when they played on opposing hockey teams (which leads to at least a five minute discussion about hockey and discovery that they’re both from Manitoba. “Could hear that you were Canadian,” says Brent. “Small fucking world.”). That he works as a waiter and had just gotten off his shift when Johnny texted. 

Johnny feels shitty over that last part when he hears it. “Man, you could’ve said no.” 

Brent raises an eyebrow at him. “I know? I’m a big boy, Johnny. Getting laid is the best reward to working all day on a Friday.” 

Johnny licks his lips, just thinking about earlier. 

Brent cranes his neck and Johnny follows his gaze to the small alarm clock on his nightstand. “Should probably go, though. Working a double in the morning, then cramming for a test.” 

Johnny nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t really ever talk to his hookups, aside from Kaner who’s also a friend. And he most certainly never has one stay the night, and never stays over himself. He kind of broke his own rules with Brent tonight, but he can’t say he minded it. Wouldn’t have kicked him out just yet, either. He watches Brent button himself up, before pulling his jacket from the floor and shrugging into it as easily as he shrugged out of it. He feels an odd pang in his chest. 

When Brent turns, Johnny’s still in his same position, legs crossed at the ankle. 

Brent smiles at him, shaking his head. “You make it really hard to leave, man.” 

Johnny snorts. “Interesting choice of words,” he deadpans, even as his stomach does a minor swoop over Brent wanting him this much. 

Brent braces one hand on the mattress as he leans down to kiss Johnny, firmly, which just a hint of tongue. “See you around, kid,” he whispers as their lips part. 

Johnny watches his ass as he walks to the door. 

He sure fucking hopes so. 

Normally, he feels pretty damn blissed out when after he gets off. Tonight he’s restless, trying to read while listening to music after Brent leaves, too keyed up to sleep. 

He ends up texting Kaner. 

_hooked up with that friend of your friend_

The reply doesn’t take along. _you’re gonna need to narrow that down, tazer_

Johnny rolls his eyes. _from that party the other week_

He’s not surprised when the phone call comes.

“That guy’s smokin’, what’s he doing banging you?” is Kaner’s greeting. 

Johnny pulls a face. “ _You_ bang me.” 

“We both know I’ve got no taste.” 

Johnny laughs. “Fuck off.” 

“No, you fuck off, give me details.” 

“No,” Johnny says flatly. 

Kaner lets out a pitiful sounding whining. “Johnny, man, c’mon. I’m stuck in my childhood room, everyone’s asleep, I’m bored as fuck. At least tell me what you did.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “He blew me. I blew him.” 

“Bet he can deepthroat,” Kaner sighs, a little dreamily. 

Johnny grins. “He really can.”  
___________________________________________

3\. _carry a compass to help you along_

The semester is winding down and Johnny’s really fucking stressed over finals, particularly his math one. He fuckin’ sucks at math, and is seriously rethinking his entire major, given how much of it is physics and shit. Kaner tries to tutor him a bit, but whenever Kaner tries to tutor him they either end up screaming at each other or making out, neither conducive to Johnny’s GPA. Tonight it’s the former. 

“I’m leaving until you get over yourself,” Kaner yells on his way out of Johnny’s room, and honestly, Johnny thought drama like this only came in the form of boyfriends. He pauses in Johnny’s doorway, looking back at him and frowning. Johnny’s so fucking tense, about ready to tear his hair out. He needs this semester to be over. He needs to not get lower than a B. He needs to be able to face his parents over Christmas break. 

“Seriously, dude, why don’t you hit up that grad student? He makes you super chill,” are Kaner’s final, assessing words before the door closes behind him. 

Johnny throws a tennis ball at the wall and flops back onto his bed, sighing heavily. At least Kaner left him some notes that might help with the test. Johnny should probably study but he’s too tightly wound. He looks over at where his phone lies on his nightstand and bites his lip. 

Brent didn’t contact him after the last time. Alright, so it’s only been about a week, but still. Johnny really doesn’t want to be the one to keep initiating contact. He feels really fucking dumb, and worse, desperate. It’d be nice to be trading off booty calls. 

He pushes his thoughts away. Tries to nap. Can’t. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, rolling onto his stomach and grabbing his phone, pulling up Brent’s number. 

He doesn’t really know what to say, this time. He could stick to the same drill, as it did the trick last time. It’s about 8pm on a Thursday. Maybe Brent’s at class or something. 

_having a shitty day. you feel like messing around?_

Johnny has no idea why he prefaced it that way and immediately wishes he could take it back. 

_what’s wrong?_ is the response he gets. Like he and Brent are buds or something. Maybe he thinks Johnny’s someone else. 

_uh, this is johnny from the party jsyk_

_i know who the fuck you are johnny, jesus. everything alright?_

Johnny blinks down at the text, heart kickstarting a little before he starts typing back. _just school stress. you know how it is_

_that’s the truth. at the library right now actually_

Oh, Johnny thinks, shoving down a jolt of disappointment. 

Johnny’s about to text back ‘nevermind’ and just go jerk off, when his phone beeps. 

_make you a deal. we each put in another hour of this shit and then i come over and screw your brains out_

Johnny nearly drops his phone. 

Part of him wants to say ‘fuck being so responsible and come over now’. The other part of him kind of loves that Brent takes school as seriously as he does. 

_you got a deal_ Johnny says. 

Of course, there’s no way Brent would know if he actually studies or not, but Johnny’d know and he’d rather not deal with his own crippling guilt tonight. By the time 9 pm rolls around he feels a little better about the final. He texts Kaner an apology and thanks for a notes. His response is _whatever, love u too, get laid_. 

Johnny grins at his phone. He plans to. 

_________________________________

He doesn’t answer the door in his underwear this time, instead leaving on his battered Hawks shirt and comfortable grey sweats. He isn’t _wearing_ underwear, but that’s another story. 

Brent’s hair is a little wet, flecks of white in it and on his jacket, so Johnny assumes it must be snowing. “Hey,” Brent says, looking Johnny up and down like last time. “Have I been downgraded?” His mouth curves into a smile. 

Johnny frowns at him. “Huh?” 

Brent rolls his eyes, pulling at the collar of Johnny’s shirt. “You’re actually wearing clothes.” 

Johnny grins, gets his arm around the small of Brent’s back, pulling him in until his leg is slotted between Brent’s thighs. “That remains to be seen.”

Brent groans and crushes their mouths together. Johnny opens for him immediately, seeking out his tongue and pulling it into his own mouth, sucking hard. Johnny slides off Brent’s jacket, letting it fall to the floor. 

“Mmm,” Brent moans into Johnny’s mouth. He grabs hold of Johnny’s ass, spinning him so he’s pressed against the wall next to the door and then, fuck, lifting him up. Johnny’s arms grip Brent’s shoulders and his legs go around his waist, gasping as Brent holds him up with his hands on his ass, squeezing roughly. 

Johnny’s back is pressed against the wall, Brent’s hips grinding upward against him, denim-clad dick against his ass, a delicious friction. 

“Fuck,” Johnny breathes when Brent breaks the kiss, mouthing his neck down Johnny’s neck. 

Brent’s fingertips grapple at the waistband of Johnny’s sweats, Johnny tightening his legs around him as Brent balances him between his hands and the wall. He slips his fingers beneath the fabric, finding Johnny’s bare skin and letting out a grunt against his neck. “Jesus, kid, you’re full of surprises.” 

“Told you,” Johnny gasps, head thunking back against the wall while Brent sucks a biting kiss to his neck. 

Johnny shudders when Brent’s finger dips between his cheeks. “Yeah,” Brent whispers. “Wanna fuck you,” he says, tongue pointed as he licks down the column of Johnny’s throat. “If you’re into that.” 

A spark of want ignites through him and his hole flutters around where Brent’s fingers are now teasing. 

“Shit, yeah.” 

Brent huffs out a laugh against his neck, breath burning Johnny up from the outside in. “What if I did it right here? Spread you open on my dick, fucked you till you could barely walk.” 

“Nnghh,” Johnny grunts out, unintelligible. “Get. God, get something.” 

Brent groans, nails cutting into the meat of Johnny’s ass as he wrenches his mouth back up and seals their lips together, panting against Johnny. “Where?” 

Johnny’s hands tighten on Brent’s shoulders, fingers flexing. “Nightstand, top drawer.” Johnny’s really glad he keeps his dildo elsewhere. 

Brent sets Johnny down and crosses the room. Johnny takes the opportunity to shuck off his shirt and pants. He’s gratified by the way Brent’s mouth drops open when he turns back around. taking in Johnny leaning back against the wall, cock standing tall against his belly. 

“Good god,” Brent breathes. “You’re a menace, kid.” 

“Not a kid,” Johnny drawls, stroking his cock in long, smooth strokes, giving in to the full body shudder that’s forcing it’s way out. 

“No,” Brent agrees, stalking forward, handing Johnny the lube and condom. “Guess you’re not.” Brent strips off his shirt in one smooth movement, tossing it behind him where it lands on Johnny’s bed. Johnny drags one of his palms up Brent’s chest, scratching his nails through the hair there, while Brent toes off his sneakers.

Johnny works Brent’s jeans open with one hand, moaning when Brent leans forward so they’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. 

They manage to get Brent’s pants and boxers down and then Johnny’s back up against the wall again, legs wrapped around Brent’s thighs while Brent works a lube coated finger inside him, dick already encased in the condom. 

“Fuck,” Johnny gasps, pressing down against Brent’s fingers, his hole spasming around him. 

Brent moans, lips sliding across Johnny’s face. “So tight. Can you handle it like this?” 

Johnny scoffs, clenching his thighs around Brent’s flank. “I got this.” 

Brent laughs. A second finger circles his hole while Johnny’s sweat-slicked back slides against the wall.

They kiss throughout it, biting at one another’s mouths. Brent’s fingers stretch and burn in the best ways, fucking Johnny in quick movements, brushing his prostate and making his brain short out. 

Johnny’s a sweaty, desperate, kiss-swollen mess by the time Brent lines his dick up and starts to push inside. He’s stretching Johnny wide around the head, holding him open while Johnny tries to breathe and loosen up for him. Brent presses in slowly, one hand on Johnny’s shoulder, the other digging into his ass cheek. Johnny relaxes around him, biting his lip as Brent slides in deeper and deeper. Once fully seated, he starts meeting Brent with every slow, lazy thrust, his toes curling into the small of Brent’s back, using the wall to push off and into him. It’s a steady, hot drag of his cock over and over that has Johnny’s eyes crossing and his breathing growing shallow. 

Brent bites at Johnny’s bicep, fucking in hard and fast now, his balls slapping against Johnny’s with each hard upstroke. 

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Brent moans, tongue laving at Johnny, making him shudder and shake. 

Johnny groans, pushing his own dick against Brent’s stomach, one hand leaving from where it’s curved around Brent’s neck to get a hold of himself. His cock is aching, leaking at the tip, probably all purpled up by now, veins bulging. 

“Don’t yet,” Johnny gasps, working his cock hard and fast in his palm. “Just— just a little longer.” 

Brent lets out a shaky breath against Johnny’s neck, kissing his heated skin with soft, almost delicate pecks. “Whatever you need, baby. Fuck, your ass is amazing.”

Johnny goes warm all over. Brent grinds in deep and holds it there, and Johnny cries out as he hits his prostate. “Yeah, right there, yeah. _Brent_.” 

“Nngh, Johnny,” Brent groans, palming Johnny’s ass and shoving him harder into the wall. “Come, c’mon.” 

“Fuck,” Johnny says, breathless, “Fuck, yeah,” he stutters, shaking and coming into his hand and between their bodies. 

Brent must’ve been holding off just until Johnny could do it, because then he’s there too, following Johnny over the edge, gasping out deep moans against the hollow of Johnny’s neck. 

“Shit,” Brent says, voice a little uneven. 

Johnny smiles weakly. “Alright, seriously, put me down.” 

Brent laughs again pulls out gingerly, still making Johnny hiss and sigh at the loss, before settling him down. Johnny’s legs are wobbly and he just stands up against the wall for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. 

Brent looks down at the condom and makes a face.

“Wastebasket by the bed, man,” Johnny says, letting out a yawn and stretching his arms over his head. 

“Thanks,” Brent says. 

Johnny finally makes himself move enough to gather up some tissues. They clean up, sneaking glances at each other and grinning. 

“You weren’t wrong,” Johnny says when Brent’s dressed and Johnny’s got his sweatpants on. They’re standing in his doorway. 

“Hmm?” Brent says. He looks totally fucked out, hair a mess, cheeks red, eyes glassy. 

“You screwed my brains out,” Johnny says. “Nice job, buddy,” he says, putting his hand up for a fistbump. 

Brent laughs, bumping him back. “Yeah, well. Same.” 

He hauls Johnny in for a kiss that makes his toes curl. 

“See you around, kid,” Brent says, just like last time, a trail of spit connecting their mouths as he breaks apart, before snapping off between them. 

Johnny leans back against the door for long moments before finally crawling into bed.  
________________________________________________

4\. _find my direction magnetically_

Johnny passes all his finals. He attributes a lot of it to Brent's dick, which he's taken a few times now. Brent had finally contacted him first, the week following the Ridiculously Hot Wall Sex, as Johnny likes to refer to it in his mind. 

_Can't concentrate, keep thinking about your ass_ , was the text he’d received.

Johnny'd responded with _I keep thinking about your cock_.

It wasn’t really a lie. 

So Brent had come over and fucked him in his bed this time, and then when finals were over he told Johnny he wanted to celebrate by rimming him till he woke up the whole dorm and then fucking him till he screamed. 

Who was Johnny to say no to that?

Johnny goes home for Christmas break and doesn't hear from Brent, except for a _have a nice holiday_ text, which made him smile stupidly and then wonder why his face was doing that over something so innocuous. 

He hangs out with family and friends over break, vaguely wonders if Brent came back home too and what the ethics of a booty call while home for the holidays were.

In the end he just jerks off a lot, not feeling like pulling up here. He never had too much luck finding guys in Winnipeg and he’s not in the mood to sleep with any girls right now. While he considers himself bi, he’s also been on a pretty steady streak of dick lately, hasn’t craved anything else. Dan chirps him that he's got his eye on someone back in Chicago and Johnny corrects him, reminding him about Kaner and telling him around Brent. 

Dan laughs at him. "One day, you'll wanna date someone for real, man."

Dan acts like they’re both so old. But then again, Dan’s been dating Lorissa since junior year of high school and Matty's been with Tara forever and will probably get wifed up any day now. The Watts fall in love hard and fast, like saps. And alright, Johnny supposes his parents are saps too, his mom marrying the first guy she ever dated, but whatever. It’s not like Johnny’s got some sort of phobia towards commitment; he just thinks it’s easier this way. He’s always been pretty focused on his studies, never did all that puppy love stuff in high school. And once he realized how truly awesome sex could be, he just wanted it as much as possible, without all the extras. 

The dorms open before school does, so Dan comes back with Johnny for about a week. He introduces him to his friends in Chicago, shows him the Bean and Navy Pier. They check out this club Johnny'd heard good things about and Johnny's having a great time, happy, buzzed and hanging with his bestest bud. He certainly doesn't expect to look over Dan's shoulder from where they're dancing and see Brent. 

Brent with his hands all over some guy, licking up his neck the same way he's done to Johnny. It's a kind of visceral, watching it from this angle, knowing now just what Brent's face looks like when he's doing that to Johnny. It's simultaneously hot as fuck and maddening as hell. 

There’s really no explanation for the jolt of jealousy he feels watching Brent put his hands all over this guy, especially when he doesn’t exactly do exclusivity. Sex is fun and sex with different people is even funner. The guy in Brent’s arms is some skinny twink of a thing; Brent could probably break him in two. 

He startles when Brent's eyes rise and he meets Johnny's gaze head on. He doesn't look surprised in the slightest. Looks more like he'd already spotted Johnny beforehand. The thought sends a thrill through him. Johnny watches the guy kiss Brent's neck, burying his face in his skin as they dance, and his eyes narrow.

"Dance with me!" Johnny shouts in Dan's ear.

"I am dancing with you!" Dan shouts back.

Johnny shakes his head and grips Dan's hips, pulling them to his own.

"Dance with me like you wanna fuck me," he tells Dan.

"I don't wanna fuck you," Dan says, laughing, arms still hanging uselessly at his sides.

"God dammit Danny, pretend you do."

And that's how he ends up grinding in a club with his best friend, trying to make his fuck buddy jealous. Johnny's not sure when he lost control of his life, but it's certainly happened.

Dan gets with the program prettily quickly, hands fitted over Johnny's hips as they move together.

Brent's looking, but Johnny can't read his expression. 

He leans in close to Dan, nosing up to his ear. "Kiss my neck," he whispers.

"Jesus Christ, I hate you," Dan mutters.

Johnny scoffs. "Not like you haven't before, Danny."

"Once! When we were fifteen!" Dan protests. But he still does it. 

Johnny grinds harder against him, finding Brent's eyes again. He sees his jaw clench. 

A large group crowds onto the dance floor and Johnny's view gets obstructed. By the time it clears, Brent and the guy are gone. 

Johnny sighs, putting some space between him and Dan.

"Uh, thanks, buddy," he says, dragging his hand through his hair.

Dan rolls his eyes. "You owe me and drink and an explanation." 

They head over the bar and Johnny tells him about seeing Brent on the dance floor, finishing his tale with a dark mutter of, "He's probably getting blown in the bathroom right now."

Dan shakes his head at him, knocking back his beer. "Dude, I thought you said it was a fling."

"It is," says Johnny, shrugging one shoulder. 

“That,” Dan says, waving at Johnny's face,"doesn't look like a fling, JT."

"Shut up and drink your free beer." 

They get home around one. Dan passes out immediately on his makeshift bed of pillows and blankets. Johnny tosses and turns, mind picturing that guy sucking Brent off. Or Brent fucking him. 

His phone buzzes around two a.m. and Johnny's pulse jumps in his throat. 

_Come over_

Johnny bites his lip. He doesn't even know where Brent lives. 

Sure enough the next text is his address, which is how Johnny finds himself trekking across town in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

He rings the buzzer to Brent's place and is silently let in. For a second, as he's climbing to apartment 207, he wonders if that guy is here. If Brent's invited Johnny over for some kind of threesome. Johnny's done that shit, but he really isn't... feeling it right now.

He's relieved when the door opens and there's no one next to Brent. He's not wearing a shirt this time, clad only in boxers. Johnny would laugh at the obvious parody, but he's still feeling kind of fraught. 

"C'mere," Brent says. More like growls. It shouldn't be so sexy. 

He gets his hands all over Brent's skin, drinking his fill while Brent kisses him like he's starved for it. Like he hasn't kissed anyone in forever, even though Johnny knows that's not true. 

Johnny presses his fingers against Brent's ass, enjoying the way the muscles jump beneath the indent of his fingertips. Brent lets out a sharp cry that Johnny swallows, licking behind his teeth and stroking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. His jaw already aches from how hard and deep they're kissing. 

Brent tugs at Johnny's clothes and they undress him together as they make out like desperate teenagers. Stumbling through the living room and into what Johnny assumes is Brent's room, they fall onto the bed, both of them down to their underwear now. 

Johnny's on top of Brent, grinding shamelessly against his thigh. He can feel the heavy, hot length of Brent's dick trapped between their bodies, sliding against the cut of Johnny's abs.

They keep kissing, panting against one another's mouths, biting and sucking. It's the longest they've gone without talking during sex. Johnny supposes their bodies are doing all the talking tonight. Brent grunts, ghosting his fingers along Johnny's crack over his boxers, before sitting up and knocking Johnny onto his back so his head is toward the foot of the bed. Brent gets on his knees between Johnny's legs and pulls his boxers down in one smooth motion, fisting his hard, aching cock fast and firm, delicious friction that makes Johnny’s legs shake. He throws an arm over of his face, biting at his wrist, teeth sinking in painfully. It’s a necessary action, needing to take the edge off or he's going to come all over Brent's face before he even gets his mouth on him.

Johnny's moan is long and low and muffled when Brent closes his lips around the head and sucks him down in one go, burying his nose against the nest of curls at Johnny's groin and breathing in deeply.

Johnny watches Brent, the way his head bobs, the way his eyes are screwed shut as if he's got to really concentrate to get a whole dick in his mouth. Johnny nearly lets out a laugh at the thought, but then Brent's sucking him hard and fast and laughter becomes the last thing on Johnny's mind.

He pulls off before Johnny comes, when he's so on edge he can taste it. Johnny’s eyes had fallen shut and his teeth are cutting off the circulation in his bottom lip. He's gasping and dazed when Brent moves to loom over him, eyes opening slowly when Brent thumb at Johnny's abused flesh, loosening his lip from the death grip of his teeth. 

Brent must've pulled his cock out at some point because Johnny can see his other hand working between his legs. He moves the hand that was at Johnny’s mouth to Johnny’s shoulder, pressing him back into the mattress before following him there. He tucks his face in the crook of Johnny's neck, kissing and licking at overheated skin.

"Want you so fucking bad, kid," Brent says, voice raw. Johnny's dick leaps between them, along with his heart. It's the first thing he's said all night, practically. 

Johnny pushes out from underneath him, getting onto his knees and guiding Brent back toward the pillows. He goes easily enough, his gaze hot and heavy on Johnny, lips blood red, face flushed. 

Johnny pulls off his boxers all the way and then sheds Brent of his own before climbing on top of him again. He straddles Brent with this thighs on either side of his hips, letting Brent's cock nestle against his ass, pressing snug up between his cheeks. 

"Fuck," Brent says, pupils large, like he's just figured out what Johnny's planning. 

"Got stuff?" Johnny asks. He barely recognizes the sound of his own voice.

Brent nods, eyes wild, and reaches over to his bedside table drawer. He tosses Johnny a sleeve of condoms and a bottle of lube. 

"Want me to get you ready?" Brent rasps, his big hands smoothing up and down Johnny's thighs. Johnny trembles a little beneath the touch, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, 

"No. My show tonight." 

When he opens his eyes again, Brent's lips have parted and he's breathing hard through his mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fuck, kid." 

Johnny bites back a smirk, reaching behind him to give Brent's dick a tug, slapping it against the swell of his ass. 

"Fuck," Brent repeats, and Johnny does smirk that time. He shifts forward enough so he can get his fingers between his cheeks, after coating them up. He circles his hole and presses inside, biting his lip and dragging his gaze back to Brent, who's watching avidly. 

He keeps touching Johnny everywhere: his thighs, his hipbones, his nipples, and finally, _thankfully_ , his dick again, which is flushed angry red and leaking at the tip.

He also keeps looking at Johnny. It settles under his skin, makes him feel hot and heady. Johnny’s got three fingers buried deep inside himself, Brent’s hand on his dick and his tongue in his mouth, when he thinks he’s finally good to go. 

He tears his mouth away, bracing one hand on Brent’s shoulder and placing the other on the base of his dick as Johnny slowly sinks down. His rim catches on the head and he hisses, breathing in and out slowly, relaxing his body. Brent’s eyes are boring a hole inside him and Johnny can’t meet his eyes, face flushing as he sinks down on his cock, slowly, inch by inch. He’s panting heavily when Brent starts stroking his cock in earnest, distracting Johnny from his task. He knocks his hand away until he’s buried in to the hilt, lip blanched between his teeth again. 

“Jesus fuck,” Johnny breathes out, his thighs quaking as he’s filled up with Brent’s cock, stretched out wide on his dick. He shifts position, gets his knees underneath him so he can control the movements more. Brent’s staring up at him, looking like he’s two seconds from going off himself. 

Johnny groans and starts to move, rising up and down on Brent’s cock. He grabs Brent’s hand, putting it back on his dick. 

“Yeah,” Brent whispers, twisting his wrist just the way Johnny loves it, dragging his nail along the head. He’s so fucking hard, every thrust upward and down again giving him just the perfect amount of prostate stimulation. He starts it out slow but quickly builds the intensity, matching the rapid pace of Brent’s hand. Brent moves his other arm around to curl around Johnny’s back and tug him in close so their chests are touching, Johnny’s dick in between them. He slides out halfway but Brent meets him on the upstroke, hips rising and falling in time with Johnny’s. 

“Baby. You’re fucking amazing,” Brent groans, mouthing at Johnny’s jaw before their lips meet full on and they’re back to the sure, deep kisses they’ve been trading all night. 

Johnny pulls Brent’s lip between his own, letting it go with a pop. “Gonna make you lose it,” Johnny promises, screwing himself down when Brent fucks upward, clenching around him. 

Brent’s answering laugh is breathless. “You already do,” he says, and then he’s proving it to Johnny, crying out as he comes on one particularly good upward thrust. 

Johnny spasms around him and comes a moment later, Brent’s hand working his cock and his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to Johnny’s shoulderblade. 

They lay there for at least a minute, Johnny on top of him, Brent still mostly inside him, his hands stroking up and down Johnny’s back. It’s nice, soothing. He forces himself up, Brent slipping free. Johnny watches as he holds the condom around the base of his dick before groaning and pulling it off, tying it and tossing it into the garbage near the bed. 

Johnny runs a hand through the mess on his stomach and then his clean hand through his hair, letting out a shuddery breath. He flops back onto the bed next to Brent, close but not touching, listening to the rhythmic sounds of their breathing. 

Brent groans softly and turns into Johnny, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny says, closing his eyes. Brent kisses his shoulder again and then tugs him till Johnny’s on his side. “C’mere,” he whispers, maneuvering Johnny half on top of him, arm wrapped loose around his back. 

Johnny sighs contentedly when his face is pressed against Brent’s neck. He smells like a mix of cologne and perspiration, yet it still manages to be appealing. 

Johnny’s just come and should be languid and relaxed, but he’s not. He’s thinking about the club, wondering if they’re going to bring it up, wondering why they’d have any reason to. It already feels like a lifetime ago, like it happened to someone else. He doesn’t know why he’s even making it a thing in his head. 

Brent doesn’t say anything, though. Just absently strokes the back of Johnny’s head and up and down his back, until Johnny can’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t just fall asleep. Until he remembers Dan and, more importantly, that he never spends the night anywhere. 

“I should go,” Johnny whispers, kissing the hair on Brent’s chest, palming up and down the expanse of it. 

Brent’s fingers card through his hair. “Mm, stay. Duncs is gone for the weekend.” 

Johnny darts upward, dislodging Brent’s hand and making him blink at Johnny in surprise. 

“Can’t, man. Got someone over.” 

Brent’s eyes cloud for a moment. “Oh,” he says, lips pulling into a tight line. “Hey, Johnny, if you’re uh, dating someone and can’t be doing this—”

“What?” Johnny says, laughing. “No, I. Don’t exactly date.”

“Right,” Brent says. “Well. I’ll let you get… back.” 

Johnny doesn’t know what Brent’s thinking—should probably correct whatever it is, tell him it’s his best friend. But he doesn’t, viciously enjoying Brent experiencing any sort of jealousy, like Johnny had been earlier. He’s got no right to it, but he craves it all the same. 

The clean up and re-dressing is awkward, not like the last time, when they laughed together, crawling on hands and knees trying to find Brent’s sock that somehow made it underneath the bed.

“I’ll see you,” Johnny says, when Brent walks him to the door. 

Brent nods. “Night, kid.” His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

It’s nearly 5am when he sneaks into his room. Dan gives him a highly judgmental look for someone who’s got one eye cracked open and drool on his pillow. 

Johnny strips down to his boxers and flops back onto the bed, throwing a hand over his eyes. Despite the fantastic sex he just had it takes him a while to get to sleep, a deep, unsatisfied feeling settling in the pit of his stomach and refusing to leave.  
___________________________________

5\. _A river in a time of dryness_

“Fuck,” Kaner pants out, flopping down beside Johnny on the bed and throwing an arm over his face. 

Johnny makes a noise of agreement and reaches over for some tissues, dabbing at his stomach. 

It’s just the sound of their breathing for a while, before Kaner slaps his arm. 

Johnny opens one eye slowly, peering at him.

“We haven't done that in a while,” Kaner points out. 

Johnny shrugs, even though he suddenly feels hot, and not from the workout they just had. “We don’t do it all the time to begin with.” Which is true. 

Kaner lets out a loud yawn. “Okay, point, but we hadn’t done it since before break. Been a while.” 

Johnny shrugs again, not meeting his eyes. The fact of the matter is, he’s only wanted to hook up with Brent for the past few weeks. Maybe longer, if he really thinks about. He had the realization in the shower the other day, and it’d freaked him out. He’d nearly said he wasn’t up to tonight, with Kaner, but his other head had different plans. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised Kaner was calling him out on it. Kaner could read him pretty easily. Which means Johnny should’ve seen his next words coming. 

“I think it’s Mr. Big Dick, personally.” 

Johnny groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, staring up at the ceiling. “Why did I tell you that?” 

“Because your desire to gloat outweighs your self-preservation.” 

“I was being rhetorical.”

Kaner laughs. “I bet you can’t use words like rhetorical after he fucks you with that thing.” 

The back of Johnny’s neck burns. “Shove it,” Johnny says. 

Kaner rolls onto his side, looking at Johnny. “Aww, is it serious?” 

“No,” Johnny mutters. “I’d have to be pretty shitty for it to be serious and then done that with you.”

He watches Kaner roll his eyes. “I meant for _you_ , asshole.” 

“No,” Johnny replies. “It isn’t. I barely know him.” 

Kaner scoffs. “You can still like someone.” 

Johnny groans, flopping onto his side away from Kaner. “Stop talking.” 

“No,” Kaner says happily. “Hey, Sharpy’s having this birthday thing for Abby. Wanna go?” 

“Who?” Johnny asks, turning back over. 

“Sharpy, man. The dude who threw the party where you met Big Dick.” 

“Stop calling him big dick, jesus christ.” 

“ _Brent_. Do you want to or what?” 

“Why would I want to?” 

Kaner shrugs. “It’s bowling. Bowling’s fun.” 

Johnny laughs. “He’s throwing her a birthday party in a bowling alley?” 

Kaner elbows him. “Fuck off, are you in or what?”

“I suppose,” Johnny says. He wonders if Brent’s gonna be there and then wants to punch himself in the face. 

____________________________

Brent is indeed there. He’s there, and he’s wearing a backwards snapback and that fucking beard that Johnny’s felt between his thighs and against his ass. 

The last time Johnny saw him, Johnny’d been having a shitty day. Brent came over and instead of falling into bed straight away, they’d just talked. About a lot of different shit. Then they’d watched TV and made out. And when they fucked, while intense as usual, it was also—fun. Brent’s beard tickled him at one point, Johnny started laughing and then it was like neither of them could stop. It’d been different, and it was majorly throwing Johnny off his game.

He couldn’t stop looking at Brent, watching him talk to Kaner while Johnny made small talk with Abby. Brent was looking at him, too, sneaking tiny glances that Johnny would’ve missed if he hadn’t been actively watching. 

Johnny isn’t that great at bowling. He gets pissed halfway through, starts rolling the ball between his legs.  
“That’s nothing,” Kaner says when Johnny returns to his seat. “His buddy back home told me all about his tantrums on the golf course.” 

Johnny flips him the finger. “Bowling is dumb. Golf at least requires skill.” 

“Skill you don’t have,” Kaner says happily, raising his beer in Johnny’s direction. 

Johnny sits back down, next to Brent. They haven’t talked much tonight but he can feel Brent’s eyes on him again. He turns his head. Brent’s gaze is heated and Johnny swallows hard. 

He picks up his beer, downs it, and then stands up. “Bathroom,” he announces, wondering if he’s being more subtle than he feels. 

He does actually have to piss. But he also stands with his hands under the sink for a lot longer than needed. 

When Brent comes in, Johnny nearly sighs in relief. Brent raises his eyebrows at him in the mirror while Johnny dries his hands. Johnny jerks his head silently toward to the empty handicap stall that thankfully has doors down to the floor. 

They stumble inside, Brent pushing Johnny against the door and biting his way into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans against his lips, getting his hands beneath Brent’s shirt and under the waistband of his jeans. He ducks his head, kissing down Brent’s jaw, mouth open, loving the way the coarse hair feels on his tongue. “Lemme blow you,” he whispers, lips hot on Brent’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Brent says, tangling his fingers hair in Johnny’s hair. “Do it.” 

Johnny does, getting to his knees on the hard floor, rubbing his face along the hot press of an erection against the denim of Brent’s jeans. He takes him out, not wanting to tease. Not having the time to. He works him hard and fast with his tongue and hand, listening to Brent’s muffled moans. Johnny looks up to find him biting his own fist and nearly goes off right then and there. He palms his own aching cock with his left hand while working Brent with his right. He doesn’t let up, moaning around Brent’s dick when Brent’s hands find their way to his head, scratching along his scalp and cradling the back of his neck. Brent comes like that, breathing out Johnny’s name. Johnny swallows his thick come, gasping as he pulls off, pressing a kiss to the head of Brent’s dick. Brent tugs him up by his shoulders and crushes their mouths together. sucking on Johnny’s tongue while working open his jeans. 

He jerks him off roughly, kissing him the whole time. Johnny despairs for whatever come stain is about to happen, but only briefly. Except at the last moment, Brent spins him into the wall and folds to his knees, closing his mouth around Johnny’s cock just as he goes off. Johnny can barely breathe, just thunks his head back against the stall, legs trembling. 

“Jesus,” he gasps. 

Brent stands, and Johnny blinks his eyes open to find him grinning, looking almost a little—shy. It’s pretty foreign and it makes Johnny kiss him. 

“The fuck is this shirt,” Brent says in between kisses, thumbing at the threadbare fabric. 

“Like it?” Johnny teases. 

Brent growls and kisses him harder. 

“We better go,” Johnny whispers against his mouth, well aware how heated this is turning again. “My luck Kaner will find us and bitch about no longer being the only one I’ve ever blown in a bathroom.”

Brent pulls back, head cocked. “You and Kaner—?” 

Johnny pulls a face. “No, just. You know, screwing around.” He doesn’t know why his heart is suddenly pounding. 

“Right,” Brent nods, kissing Johnny quickly, not meeting his eyes. “Lemme go first.” 

Johnny stands there dumbly, waiting in the stall, willing his legs to stop shaking. He had a pretty crystal clear thought of _not like this_ after he said ‘screwing around’ and it’s surprising the crap out of him, to be honest. It’s not that he never wants to date anyone ever. But he’s 20 and he figured he had a few more years of casual sex in him before deciding to be with one person, for however long or short the length of time that hypothetical relationship lasts. 

Except, he wants to know what an actual date with Brent would be like. For the first time, ever really, he can admit that he really wants to someone’s boyfriend. Not just someone’s, but _Brent’s_. He loved how they talked the last time they were together, how he wanted to _keep_ talking, didn’t even care about getting down to business. He liked listening to Brent tell him about his brother and his new baby cousin and how badly he wants to teach kids. It wasn’t like talking to Kaner or Dan. He loved them, they were his boys, but he didn’t feel a stupid flutter in his stomach when they smiled. 

Johnny gets his legs moving, steps out of the stall and the bathroom and starts walking toward their lane with determination in his step. When he sees Brent standing off to the side with Sharpy, he figures it’s now or never. 

Their backs are towards him as he approaches and he hears Sharpy laugh. 

“The bathroom, man? You're shameless!" 

Johnny can just make out the corner of Brent’s mouth turned upward and he smiles himself, feeling warm all over at people… knowing. And congratulating them. 

"So what, then, are you guys dating? Or—" Sharpy’s saying now and Johnny freezes, heard in his throat. 

Brent cuts him off immediately, voice a little hard. "No, man. It's just a hook-up, don't make a big deal out of it."

Johnny’s stomach drops to his knees. He’s about to keep moving when Brent turns, looking over his shoulder, eyes widening. “Johnny—"

He palms the back of his neck. "I was just coming over to uh, say goodbye. Gonna head out. Thanks for the invite, man.” He nods to Sharpy and starts walking away. 

He’s just outside the doors when he hears a muffled yell of his name. 

When Johnny turns, Brent is heading toward him. Johnny ducks his head, looking at his feet, humiliation welling up inside him. Sure, Brent has no idea that Johnny was coming over to ask him out, but Johnny does. And he feels like a fucking moron. 

“Hey,” Brent says, slowing from his jog once he’s right in front of Johnny. “Uh. What’s the hurry, kid?” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “For the millionth time, I’m not a fucking kid. And I’m splitting, what’s the big deal?” He winces at how short his words just were. 

Brent gives him a pointed look. “Well, I dunno, man, you seem pissed.” 

Johnny scoffs, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I’m fine. Just tired and shit.” 

Brent nods, but he doesn’t really look convinced. Johnny watches him comb his fingers through his hair. “Look, about what I said back there—” 

Johnny holds up a hand. “Dude, it’s—” 

“No,” Brent says, voice firm. “No, listen. I know what I said, I know what you said. But I’m gonna ask you out anyway. And then you’ll shoot me down and we’ll never see each other again, eh? So let’s get to that.” 

Brent’s leg is bouncing from where he’s tapping his foot against the concrete. 

Johnny’s mouth drops open, blinking hard. “Uh.” 

Brent laughs, a little manically. “Yeah. So, have a nice life, huh, Johnny?” 

Before he can think twice, Johnny’s reaching out to grab Brent’s arm just as he’s turning to walk back inside. He steps up into his space and takes his face in his hands, kissing him hard before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. 

“Okay.” 

“Um,” Brent says, his breath hot on Johnny’s face. “Okay?” 

Johnny laughs, brushing his nose against Brent’s. “Yes, okay, I’ll go out with you.” 

Brent lets out a breath, wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist and kisses his temple. “Cool,” he says, and Johnny can hear the smile in his voice and the faintest tremor of relief. 

“So, where you gonna take me?” Johnny asks as they walk toward the subway, shoulders brushing. 

“Hmm, I thought golfing. Gotta see those temper tantrums in action.”  
_________________________________________

+1 _as I come clean_

In the end they don’t go golfing, as it’s still winter, after all. They do, however, go ice skating in Millennium Park. It’s so stupidly romantic, under the stars with all couples around them, that Johnny nearly throws up. They’re both really good skaters, given their experience with hockey, and Johnny’s already challenging Brent to a little one on one at a rink one of these days. 

“I’ll give you some one on one,” he says, looking over at Johnny and winking. 

Johnny rolls his eyes and bumps him with his shoulder, then startles when Brent’s gloved hand finds its way into his own. 

Brent raises an eyebrow at him. “This okay?” 

Johnny looks down between them, flexes his fingers. He’s not opposed to holding hands in public or anything, he’s just—never wanted to before. “Yeah, think so.” 

Brent’s cheeks are rosy and his smile is dumb. Johnny’d be crazy not to want to. 

Later, after they’ve done a million laps in a circle, talking and holding hands the entire time, they walk to the red line. Johnny’s a little surprised when Brent says, “This is your stop,” when Sox is announced as the next stop. 

“You mean our stop?” 

Brent toys with the zipper on Johnny’s hoodie, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Nope, I mean yours.” 

Johnny frowns, then does it some more when Brent laughs at him. 

He presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “Not on a first date, kid,” he teases. 

Johnny groans, squeezing Brent’s hip, before pressing in close, burrowing his face in Brent’s shoulder. For warmth, he tells himself. Brent is so warm. “How many times do I gotta tell you, buddy, I’m not a kid.” 

“Johnny,” Brent chuckles against him, arm wrapping around his upper back, before pulling back a little to press a kiss to Johnny’s temple. “It’s a term of endearment.” 

Johnny meets his eyes as the train stutters to a stop. “Oh,” he says, smile threatening to split his face in two. 

“You choose the next date, by the way. Bring your A game.” 

Johnny laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Brent?” Johnny says as he steps off the train without so much as a good night kiss. 

“Yeah?” 

He bites his own lip. “Part of my date includes you spending the night.” 

Brent’s silent for a beat while Johnny holds his breath. 

“Thought you’d never ask, kid.” 

[end]


End file.
